


Why are you here?

by shewrites44



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Bottom Eve Polastri, Dark Eve Polastri, Endgame Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, F/F, Soft Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Top Eve Polastri, Villanelle, Villanelle | Oksana Astankova Being an Asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewrites44/pseuds/shewrites44
Summary: Eve and Villanelle must face the truth that they are the only ones who truly understand each other, and face the dangers of what that means.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	1. Arrival

It's been a few weeks since Eve went back to her apartment. The last time she was there, she was overwhelmed with Villanelle's voice recording urging her to admit her feelings for Villanelle. That night, a part of Eve did give in. She did admit, quietly to herself, that she wished Villanelle was there. The night carried on with Eve holding the plastic heart close to her cheek, pressing it again and again to hear Villanelle's voice.

And that night was special. So special that Eve couldn't think of anything besides Villanelle and the way that she gave in when Eve had kissed her. Time had seemed to come to a halt as their lips locked and Villanelle let her eyes close, entrenched in their passion. Eve's body yearned to pull Villanelle closer to herself, to melt together with Villanelle's body.

Eve laid in bed, remembering Villanelle's delicate features, her eyes, the angles of her upper lip, the way her nose pointed slightly upward. Eve traced her lips, thinking again of Villanelle's lips on her own. She thought of how Villanelle was defenseless when they'd kissed, how their bodies relaxed in unison. She thought of Villanelle on top of her, commanding power. And the more she thought of Villanelle, the more she craved her.

Eve's attraction to Villanelle wasn't adorable or quirky; it wasn't butterflies and blushing. There was no submissive shyness or sheepish smiles. Instead, the feelings Eve felt were primal, a violent desire that tingled behind her ears, rippling throughout the rest of her body.

As the tingling intensified that night, Eve guided her spare hand, tracing the curve of her breasts, the dip between them. Her fingers lead her hand down to her abdomen, and then to where she stabbed Villanelle. Eve let her fingers find their place, lower and lower, her breathing becoming heavier.

She pressed the plastic heart again, "Admit it, Eve. You wish I was here."

And again, "Admit it, Eve. You wish I was here."

Eve arched her back, sighing every time she heard her name whispered from Villanelle.

"I do," Eve murmured, "I do."

"I do… I do wish… I wish you were here, Oksana."

Eve's body fell limp, and she let out a slow, satisfied sigh before falling asleep with fleeting images of Villanelle occupying her psyche.

But tonight is different. Niko is in the hospital, nearly dead from being stabbed through his neck by a pitchfork. Dreadful fatigue has taken over Eve's body, making it difficult to breathe. She stands at the door of her apartment with her keys in her hand. She closes her burning eyes and rests her head on the door.

Eve thinks back to when everything was normal. The time before she knew of Villanelle. When she and Niko ate dinner together. When she and Niko argued over simple things like whether the egg their hen laid was edible. She had seen so much now, nothing that she ever expected to, but secretly always craved to. Memories of Bill fill her mind, and then Kenny and Niko. Was this havoc her fault? Was her intrinsic interest in Villanelle at the root of all this destruction?

And why, after all this time, does it still feel so good?

Eve lifts her head off the door and unlocks it, letting herself in.

The apartment greets Eve with a rancid smell of something spoiled. She rushes to her kitchen to crack open a window, stumbling over dirty laundry and single shoes. The window refuses to budge, forcing Eve to push with both hands and still failing. She places her purse on the counter and pushes again, harder this time. The window seems stuck and Eve begins to scream.

She climbs onto the counter and tries to push the window open with her left shoulder, "Why won't you fucking open!"

Pain sears through her shoulder, down her arm. Eve shrieks in pain, remembering her gunshot wound. She pushes again, screaming in pain and crying in rage.

"Eve, please, stop it!" exclaims Villanelle from behind Eve.

Eve turns around to face Villanelle.

She has her arms out, reaching towards Eve.

"Let me help you," Villanelle insists with a dubious smile spreading across her face.

Stunned, Eve jumps off the counter and charges towards Villanelle. Eve pushes Villanelle's shoulders and watches her trip over a shoe. Villanelle begins crawling backward, facing Eve as Eve frantically reaches for a dirty spoon to hit Villanelle. Eve swings her arm back, building a force to hit Villanelle with. Villanelle thrusts her hand forward to block Eve's blow but loses her balance and falls flat onto her back, and Eve on top of her.

Eve sits up with the spoon still in her hand, straddling Villanelle. She drops the spoon and curls her fingers into a fist and pulls it back, prepared to land a punch on Villanelle's face. With one hand in the air, and the other clutching the collar of Villanelle's silk blouse, Eve reads Villanelle's face.

She looks at Villanelle laying beneath herself. Villanelle's eyes are puffy and rimmed with red. Her face is flushed with a hue of pink, her lips are trembling. A single tear escapes, falling heavily towards her ear.

Eve loosens her grip and releases her fist.

Something is wrong.


	2. Catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle and Eve expose themselves to each other as they search for truths between themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't italicize for dramatic effect on here, so I've written asterisks around where dramatique effect is needed lol. ENJOYYYY! :)

“Do it, Eve,” Villanelle implores. “Hit me.”

Eve sits still, watching Villanelle as she begins to cry. Eve thinks that Villanelle is faking it, probably to protect herself from getting hit.  
Pathetic, thinks Eve. 

Eve crawls off of Villanelle. Villanelle curls up on her side, facing away from Eve. Her crying becomes sobs that reverberate throughout her body. It seemed that the pain Villanelle was feeling had no end and it grew exponentially in her. She clutched the stained carpet of Eve’s apartment with her eyes closed and mouth agape. Silent wails escaped Villanelle’s lips and her body resembled the ocean as waves of pain flowed through her body. 

Villanelle’s sobbing was so loud and so full of angst that Eve’s eyes began to tear up, too. She wanted to reach out and touch Villanelle, to hold her and caress her hair. Instead, Eve brought her knees up to her chest and wept silently, rocking back and forth. Her breathing became unstable and the pain that she’d avoided for months came over her in one large, blinding wave. 

Again, she thinks of Bill. She thinks of how he pushed her to think deeper, to analyze the details. She thinks of their trip to Berlin, and how he understood her better than she understood herself. Eve vividly reminisces how dark and loud the nightclub was and the heat radiating off all the bodies that pressed against hers. The smell of sticky sweat and booze engulfed her, making her breathe through her mouth. She remembers not knowing where to look; everyone’s faces seemed to look like Bill’s in her periphery. Somehow, though, she did find Bill and a relief came over her, “He’s here.” 

She called out his name as his limp body was carried in the crowd of wasted, dancing people. His mouth ajar, gasping for life. Eve remembered how it seemed like the universe was pulling her away from him, a sea of sweaty bodies carrying her away while burying him. Suddenly, the nightclub was no longer deafening, the air was no longer burdened by sweat or booze, and Bill was no longer here. 

*Don’t take him, he’s no good. Trust me, he won’t hate you like I could. No, no, no, no.*

Eve raises her head from her knees, and peers at Villanelle who is still sobbing. This same Villanelle who ruthlessly stabbed Bill, again and again, each stab yanking more life out of him. 

This was the first time that Eve felt the choking weight of Bill’s death. These past few weeks she was plagued with the grief of Kenny’s death and Niko’s situation. 

“Why did you do it?” Eve spits out, angry, and ready to attack Villanelle again. 

Villanelle’s sobbing slows down and she sits up, trying to catch her breath. 

“Do what, Eve?” 

Villanelle’s eyes are cast downward, annoying Eve.

“Look me in the eye, and tell me why you did it!” yells Eve, her voice cracking. 

Villanelle looks into Eve’s eyes, tears flowing down her pink cheeks.

Her face contorts into a painful frown and the ends of her mouth curls downward.

“I didn’t do anything to you,” she mutters, “I stayed away from your life.”

Villanelle wipes her tears and blows her nose into the folded sleeve of her blouse.

“Then why is Niko,” Eve pauses, fighting the sob growing in her throat, “Why did someone try to kill him?” 

Villanelle’s eyes grow wide, almost with amusement, as they meet with Eve’s. 

“What?” inquires Villanelle.

“Oh, don’t do that. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to play dumb, Villanelle.”

The words leave Eve’s mouth with a strong tang of hate and disgust, a repulsion from Villanelle. 

“I’m not, Eve.”

“Yes, you are. That’s what you do, right? You go around making messes that you never clean up. Do you ever stop to think about what you’re doing? You know, you’re a child Villanelle. A parasite. You take and take and take. You take things that aren’t yours and you get rewarded for them. You’re… you’re a psychopath. Your heartless.”

Eve’s cheeks burn with rage as she finishes her sentence. She feels nauseous and guilty for saying those ugly things, but the rage spreads from her chest and undulates through her body and she’s ready for a fight again. 

“I’m sick of you, Villanelle,” Eve whispers. “I’m sick of how you… how you think this is all some pathetic little game. Why won’t you say anything now, huh?”

She pushes Villanelle’s shoulder, seeking a reaction out of her. Villanelle’s body sways from the push, and her gaze steadily fixates into Eve’s. She opens her mouth to speak but Eve cuts her off.  
“I’m going to give you a taste of your filthy medicine!” Eve shouts, pushing Villanelle again. This time, Villanelle grabs Eve’s wrist before she can hit her.

“I killed my mother, EVE!” Villanelle shouts with a terrifying violence in her eyes. 

A heavy silence falls between them. Villanelle looks angrily into Eve’s eyes, waiting for a response. She shakes her head as a smile creeps up Villanelle’s face as she fights the sob threatening her throat and blurring her vision. 

She chuckles.

“I know I am terrible, Eve. I know all of these things. I just thought that someone would listen to me. I just thought for one moment that you would listen to me, and hear me.” 

She pauses, battling the spikes of the sob swelling in her throat. 

“I killed my mother last week. I tasted my medicine, are you happy now?” 

The words echo into the space between them, beating against Eve’s eardrums. 

Last week. Last week is when Niko was attacked. Villanelle couldn’t have done it, she’s a wreck over killing her mother. 

She killed her mother last week. 

Villanelle’s pain dawns over Eve.

Eve stares with horror at Villanelle and a familiar desire pushes Eve to reach her hand out and caress Villanelle’s warm cheek. Eve yearns to understand Villanelle, to peek her head through the furrows of Villanelle’s mind; her life, her experiences, who she loved, and what she lost. All this time, this primal attraction had always been more than physical, it was emotional. She was consumed by a visceral need to understand Villanelle. 

Villanelle turns her face, avoiding Eve’s touch. Eve lets her hand stay suspended in the air for a few seconds, but right as she’s about to pull away, Villanelle gives in, resting her cheek into Eve’s moist palm. A tepid, full tear escapes Villanelle as she closes her eyes and it trails down Eve’s hand. 

Eve scootches closer to Villanelle, letting their knees touch. Eve’s eyes wander Villanelle’s face. Her dark, long, wet eyelashes gently resting on her tear-stained blushed cheeks. Strands of her blond hair stick to her face, framing the rise and fall of her cheekbones. Villanelle breathes through her mouth, attempting to catch and steady her breathing. Her lips tremble as she breathes, sending vibrations through Eve’s hand. The constellation of moles spattered across Villanelle’s face and neck remind Eve of a myth she was told by an ex in her youth. 

“Moles are where you were kissed by your lover in your past life. The darker they are, the more your lover kissed you,” he told Eve.

Villanelle’s moles were dark against her tanned skin. A tingling crept into Eve’s lips as she admired them. She felt herself push forward, her lips aiming towards Villanelle’s face. Villanelle could feel Eve inching closer to her but didn’t open her eyes or flinch. 

She trusts Eve, she always has. 

Eve leans forward, cupping Villanelle’s jaws with both hands. She pulls Villanelle’s face closer to her lips and plants a single kiss on her left cheekbone. Eve lets her lips rest there; they felt like that’s where they belonged. 

Perhaps this primal feeling between them was karmic, a connection that reigned through time and the dimensions of life. Eve kisses another mole, and then another. Nothing had ever felt so correct for neither Eve nor Villanelle. With each kiss, Villanelle and Eve relaxed their muscles, each muscle relieving itself of tension. Eve pushes her hands to Villanelle’s neck, behind her ears. She gently nudges Villanelle’s face away, making room for herself as she let her lips explore Villanelle’s neck. Villanelle hiccups as she finally falls into a steady breathing pattern. 

Eve pulls back abruptly, suddenly aware of how powerful her desire for Villanelle is. 

Villanelle opens her eyes, still puffy from crying. 

They read each other’s faces, both afraid of speaking their shared truth. Afraid of explicitly admitting how badly they want-- how badly they *need* each other. 

Eve breaks eye contact, and stares at her fidgeting fingers in her lap. Her childhood habit of picking at her cuticles returned a few weeks ago. Tiny scabs frame her fingernails which are nibbled into their beds. 

Villanelle takes a shaky breath and takes Eve’s trembling hands into her own. Eve looks up. Her face is pale and fear-stricken. Eve’s dark, glazed eyes engender the yearning, fear, tenderness, and excitement that Eve carried inside her and didn’t understand. 

“You know,” Villanelle whispers, her voice cracking. She clears her throat, again fighting a sob. This sob is different, though, Villanelle notices. This sob isn’t choking Villanelle with firm grief tainted with regret. Instead, it feels warm and welcoming. It feels cathartic; a new beginning. A clean slate. A burden removed. 

Villanelle purses her lips and shakes her head in disbelief. Eve squeezes Villanelle’s hand, urging her to speak. 

Their glazed eyes peer into each other’s, whispering a silent confirmation of surrender. Their walls had been torn down at last.

“You know, Eve,” Villanelle starts again. 

Eve inches closer to Villanelle, drawing Villanelle closer to herself with just her gaze. 

“I feel it, too,” Villanelle whispers. 

Eve nods, reading Villanelle’s hazel eyes, seeing her vulnerability and honesty. 

They guide their foreheads together, letting them rest upon each other. A heated glow begins to grow within and between them.

“I know,” whispers Eve, barely audible. “I know... Oksana.”

Villanelle frees her hands of Eve’s and holds Eve’s face instead. She pulls their faces apart, but close enough for them to feel the warm release of each other’s breathing. She smiles, agreeing with her name. 

“Yes, Oksana,” Villanelle complies. Eve listened to her, she heard her. 

Eve nods as a small smile, softly stretching her lips. 

Their foreheads connect again and they take in the cathartic night.

“You need to take a shower, by the way” Villanelle chuckles.

Eve shakes her head, giggling. 

The air is cool now and filled with raw, bare honesty. 

Tonight, Eve and Oksana finally admit it; they wished for nothing else than to be there.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to mimic PWB's themes from Season 1 in terms of their dynamics and actions. This is my first fanfiction on this site, I hope you enjoyed!!


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